


you give me something to believe in (that ive never had before)

by snowandfire



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Politics, M/M, Tea Shop Zuko, campaign manager sokka, politician Katara, republic city au, speechwriter suki
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:47:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27166795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowandfire/pseuds/snowandfire
Summary: when the sun sets on republic city, katara gives the people something to believe inor:zukka political campaign au
Relationships: Iroh & Zuko (Avatar), Katara & Sokka (Avatar), Katara & Zuko (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 36
Kudos: 128





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bi_habibi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bi_habibi/gifts).



After the last customer of the day has left, Zuko spends more time than is strictly necessary wiping down the tables. Why? Because it’s election season, and if he finishes up cleaning the tea shop, he’ll have to talk politics with Uncle. He does _not_ want to talk politics with Uncle. It sparks his inner cynicism, then he says something sharp that he really doesn’t mean. They fight, they shout (well, he shouts), and at the end of it there’s a hug for him and some tea. It’s been the same deal since he was fifteen. He knows he can be a _little_ stubborn and set in his ways. Okay. A lot stubborn. 

But Uncle can be stubborn too. He walks over to Zuko and grabs hold of a wet washcloth, “The work will go by much faster with two and some lively conversation.” 

“Okay, but I’ll decide what we talk about,” Zuko demands. 

“Very well.” 

In Zuko’s head, deciding the conversation topic himself was a very intelligent idea. In practice however, it doesn’t really work. Because he can’t come up with things to say on the spot. He thinks of what he could say. He could always try talking about tea. Because Uncle loves tea. Or he could mention what vegetables they need to buy at the market tomorrow. Uncle likes...eating. But _oh no..._ now it’s been too long and it’s been _so_ long that Uncle will probably use the time to start talking himself. Zuko sighs (mentally) with the feeling equivalent to a thousand years worth of his stress. 

“Zuko have you considered who you might vote for?” 

“What’s the point?!” Zuko snaps, “We all know who’s going to win.” 

It’s his father. Father always wins. In the early stages of the process it’s practically a guarantee. Republic City has a three party system. As the leader of the Phoenix party and incumbent president, Ozai will get the party nomination by default. The only things up for contention are the Lotus party candidacy, and the Jiang party candidacy. The Jiang party almost always nominates a member of it’s own family. This year it’s most likely Yin Jiang, the eldest. But the Jiangs have never gotten more than 2-3% of the vote, not enough to win the presidency. Only the Lotus party can challenge his father. And they’ve tried. They tried five years ago. And ten years ago. Fifteen years ago too. Failed thrice. Zuko doesn’t hope anymore. He’s better off here, in obscurity, where his father, the _president,_ doesn’t even know if he’s alive or dead. If he doesn’t know, Zuko thinks bitterly, he probably doesn’t even care. 

Iroh however, has never stopped hoping. Every year he diligently goes to the polls. He puts up signs and he campaigns. From right here in their little tea shop. He puts up the symbol of the Lotus party in the window of _The Jasmine Dragon_. He does his bit. Zuko can’t stand it. It’s false hope. It’s not something they can actually have. 

“You do not know what will happen. The leaf does not know the way the wind may blow it.” 

“We’re not leaves. And the Phoenix party has money. The only _leaves_ that matter are the ones they use to buy votes!” 

“Zuko, please. Have some more faith in people to do what is right.” 

_Yeah, right._ Do what’s right. Zuko remembers when his father first came to power. He remembers all the allegations that had come out in the media. _Dirty money._ The sketchy story of what had happened to _her. Mom._ People had talked their heads off about it. They had been ‘outraged’. But in the end, at the polls, it didn’t matter. They voted for him anyway. People didn’t know what was good for them. 

“The Phoenix party promises to keep taxes low and immigrants out. That’s all people care about. Sure you and me know that things could be better. But they don’t want that. They’re just blind!” 

“Are you sure they are the only ones?” 

Zuko knows Uncle’s talking about him. How he’s being blind. Not having faith that this time someone else, someone with an actual conscience, will turn the tide and come to power. But for once, he doesn’t rise to the bait. 

He’s too tired even for that. It’s like that sometimes. 

* * *

“Katara, Katara my lovely wonderful sister. Would you at least consider taking the environmental talking points out of your speech today?” Sokka implores. 

“Sokka,” Katara says firmly, “They’re _staying_ in the speech.” 

“You’re down in the polls. Once you get elected you can do whatever you want. Talking about restricting fishing in the harbor and fair use of plastics is _really really_ unpopular.” 

“I’m not going to hide who I am. Or what I stand for. The environment isn’t just for animals you know. Every single citizen is going to benefit.” 

Sokka grabs at his own face with his hands and stretches it downwards, he turns to Aang, who’s dutifully making sure Katara’s notecards are in the right order. 

“Aang, would you please, please reason with her…tell her what you think.” 

“I think your speech looks great sweetie!” Aang hands her the notecard, “Break a leg.”

Sokka watches as Katara heads on stage, giving him a cheeky wave as she goes. Yup. They’re screwed. Totally. Freaking screwed. Forget the fact that she’s a one term representative from a poor district on the south side. She's water tribe in origin. Forget that she’s literally a _water bender_ . In a place where people practically worship _fire benders_ and their culture. Nope. She won’t soften up her agenda to appeal to anybody. And who has to figure out a way to make this work? Yup. Campaign manager Sokka. 

“Lighten up,” Suki says from his left, “You know I think people are gonna like a fresh take. She’s not like other politicians who just tell you what you wanna hear. She’s real.” 

Sokka narrows his eyes, and stares at her, “You know I really want to trust you. And I do. You know I would trust you with my life. But these days, without--”

Suki sighs, “Without polling data to back it up everything we say is practically wishful thinking. I know.” 

Miracle of miracles, the speech actually does go well. By _well_ , Sokka means no one throws any tomatoes, and unlike the last time they were at an event this large, Toph--Katara’s bodyguard come personal assistant--doesn’t have to body slam a potential security threat and get a picture in the newspaper. It’s a win. He’ll take it. 

After the speech is over, he meets with a potential donor in his tiny office at headquarters. It lasts two hours. And he has another one back to back. After it’s over Sokka’s sure he could sleep standing up. Having to schedule all of his meetings himself is starting to run him dry. Plus all the busy work, the paper work, the organizational shenanigans of managing an entire campaign. It’s too much for just him. Will he ask for help? Hell no. Does he need it? Yesterday. 

It’s Suki that points this out. She’s waiting for him, outside her own office. It’s amazing that they managed to fit this many offices in here, cramped as it is.

“You need to hire an assistant,” she says. 

“Hey speechwriter, don’t you have speeches to write?” 

“Just finished.” 

“Okay. Well it’s not like we have the cash flow for me _and_ Katara to have assistants. I mean you don’t have an assistant, and you write everything that comes out of this office. That’s crazy.” 

“Ty Lee helps, she’s sort of an unofficial proofreader for me, helps me stay on track.” 

“She’s your girlfriend, though. Are you saying I need to get a boyfriend?” 

“How long has it been since Yue?” 

Low blow. Three years thank you very much. Yup, he’d always known dating a princess wasn’t going to end well for him. Especially when said princess had family obligations, and duties, and despite being perfect and beautiful and kind did indeed crush Sokka’s heart into a million little pieces. 

“I’ll consider putting out an ad. I got both the donors. The Sato family and the Li family. Peanut packing Li family, not ostrich horse raising. So we can pay for an assistant for me and maybe a better typewriter for you. _Maybe_.” 

She laughs, “Don’t even worry about the ad, I’ll add that we’re hiring at the end of Katara’s next speech. We need a few people to go door-to-door too. I’ll even handle interviews.” 

“Suki. I _love_ you.” 

“I know you do,” she smiles, “Alright. I’m gonna head out. Working late again?” 

“Yeah,” Sokka nods, it’s not like there’s anyone waiting up for him at home anyway. This is what he has. This headquarters. His sister’s dreams. A law degree. And the ability to function with criminally little sleep. It’s not much. But it’s what he’s got. It's like that sometimes. 

* * *

Zuko gets politically radicalized over buckwheat noodles. 

Of course, this wasn’t something he planned. All he wanted was to scratch off everything on Uncle’s shopping list in time for the afternoon tea shop rush. But the noodles were marked as costing 5 yuan. They were usually 2 for a packet. And now 5. A big price hike. There was also only one brand of buckwheat noodles available in the shop.

“Hey what’s the deal? Don’t you usually have a few other brands?” Zuko asks the merchant. 

“Ming’s drove them out of business, kid, this is what we got,” the man appears bored, uninterested even. He doesn’t see the spark of Zuko’s righteous rage. 

He knows Ming’s. They’re a huge conglomeration of companies. They make practically everything. His father had blocked the anti-trust legislation against them ten years ago. Now they were everywhere. They couldn’t be stopped. They could fix prices wherever they want. Raw buckwheat was cheap, a single packet probably cost a fraction of 5 yuan to make. The whole price was in the mark-up. Sure, Zuko could pay 5 yuan for the buckwheat noodles. But it wasn’t about the noodles. Not really. 

He could ignore it, until now. But here, in his local store, in the form of Ming’s Buckwheat noodles, his father was sneering at him. _You will learn respect, and suffering will be your teacher._ He remembers. He remembers everything. And now it’s here, right around the block from the tea shop. It’s reached him. It’s a tipping point. 

Zuko hadn’t realized it, but it’s been building up for a while. It’s the subtle racism he notices in the tea shop. From established, older patrons, to the younger, browner people that come in. It’s the rhetoric he sees splashed across the papers every day that makes his skin crawl. It’s every ounce of pain, and hurt that he’s seen his father’s administration dole out to the little guy. The single mothers. The over-time workers. The day laborers. The people that built this city. 

But today, it’s about buckwheat noodles. And it’s the straw that breaks the elephant-camel’s back. 

The door slams on his way out. 

* * *

“Tonight’s the night,” Sokka puts his hands on Katara’s shoulders, “Do you wanna run through the speech one more time?” 

“Sokka. I’m pretty sure I could recite the speech in my sleep.” 

“Alright, that’s fair. Hug for good luck?” Sokka asks. 

She doesn’t answer, only sinks into his arms and grips him tight. He’s thinking about mom. He knows that she is too. For this they don’t need words. 

A few minutes later they’re on the platform, the podium’s been prepared with the emblem of the Lotus party. Choosing to host the rally at the cultural center was a stroke of genius, if Sokka does say so himself. 

There’s a big crowd gathered here. It’s all open air, so the acoustics suck. She’ll have to make her voice carry across the whole square. He doesn’t doubt for a second that she can. That she’ll kill this. Katara’s an incredible speaker. He knows that. She talks with passion, with truth. But he’s still worried about her. After all, that’s his little sister that’s gonna go out there.

“Toph, you got the security situation under control? No surprises out there right?” 

“The only security situation you’re gonna need to worry about is yours if you keep asking questions like that. I’ve got this,” Toph says as Katara approaches the podium. The din of the roaring crowd makes it so that she couldn’t possibly hear them. She spends a few seconds working them up first. Until they’re clamoring for her to speak. _Damn she’s good._

Sokka’s stupid proud. But he’s still worried. The better she is, the more people will want her out. 

He scans the crowd for signs of hidden Phoenix party loyalists. _Nothing_ . Toph notices. _Damn seismic sensing._ His heart rate must be going like crazy. 

“I’d take a bullet for Miss Sugar Queen here, you know that,” Toph says, it’s meant to be comforting. 

But Sokka feels a pit in his stomach at the thought of that. He knows she would. He just never, ever, wants it to come to that. 

“I know Toph, I know.”

* * *

Zuko doesn’t know how he ends up in the front row. Maybe it’s because he showed up early. Like, a full hour early. 

He had seen the flier for the rally after he had a fit over the buckwheat. Misread the time as 8 instead of 9. And had been hanging around the cultural center ever since. A short woman with black hair seemed to be watching him the entire time. Well, not really watching him. From her eyes, it seemed like she was blind. But she was aware of him nevertheless. She was security. That was the only explanation. No one really paid him that much mind because of the scar. At least not at that distance. 

There was a guy there too. A water tribe guy. With a wolf’s tail and shaved sides. He was running around all over the place. In and out of the building. Like a madman. From his demeanor he seemed to be having a worse day than even Zuko. _Poor dude._

But one way or another, Zuko’s in the front row when Katara approaches the podium. She meets his eyes right before she starts to speak. There’s something about her that seems familiar. 

“People of Republic City!” she says. 

Everyone cheers. 

“People of Republic City, when I was a little girl growing up in the Southern water tribe my parents taught me that with hard work, and patience. Anyone could achieve their dreams. Their dream was to come to Republic City. And they did that. They were immigrants. They came here and made this city better…”

“...Republic City was made by people like my parents, people like you. Who work every day to make their lives and the lives of their family better. That’s who I’m fighting for. For too long, the needs of the few have been put above the needs of the many. I’m here to take back this city for the many. For the many who don’t have thousands of yuan in savings for astronomical medical costs!” 

Zuko hears a ‘yeah’ in the crowd. Some assorted whoops. There’s something about it, the plea in her voice, even Zuko, cynical as he is, finds himself moved. Just a millimeter. He looks at her and still feels the odd sense of familiarity. The softness in her expression. Softness and fierceness at the same time, he knows it, he’s seen it before. 

“...For the many who have to work three jobs and still can’t make ends meet! For the many who are told day in and day out by the Phoenix party line that they don’t belong here! I am here to fight for you!” 

“We’ll fight for universal healthcare!”

“We’ll fight for raising your minimum wage!” 

“We’ll fight for workers’ rights!”

“We’ll fight for the immigrants that built this city and continue building it to this day!” 

Her voice is booming over the crowd. He feels something stirring in his chest. Belief. But he tells it to quiet down. 

“Together, we can make the dream of Republic City a reality...Fifteen years! Fifteen years we’ve accepted things the way they are. We’ve had to accept big business crushing the little guy. We’ve had to accept losing control of our beaches, our public spaces, to make room for the Phoenix party’s cronies and their personal agendas. I know how you feel. I know. We’ve never won before...but we’ve never been as united as we are now…”

He’s heard things like this before. Zuko starts walking away. He turns his back. 

What she says next feels like it’s directed specifically for him, even though that’s impossible. 

“...When I was seven years old I lost my mom. Losing her was one of the hardest things that’s ever happened to me. But I’ll never forget what she stood for. Never giving up what’s right. Doing what’s hard, not what’s easy. The Phoenix party has forgotten what’s right. It’s forgotten what Republic City stands for. It’s forgotten the dream my mother lived for…”

Zuko doesn’t hear the rest of what she says. Can’t focus on it. _Mother. Mom. Losing mom._ He feels a bit faint, a ringing in his ears. There’s something familiar about her. The sound of her voice. Hard as steel but soft like velvet. The protective anger in her tone. Barely restrained fury under a mask of elegance. _Of course. It had to be._

Katara reminds him of his mom. But different, somehow. Stronger. Katara sounds like someone he could believe in. Someone who might keep their promises. He hasn’t felt that way about anyone or anything in a long, long time. 

* * *

Sokka’s at the office bright and early the next morning, he enters his office, expecting to find the usual. An empty desk. A big ol’ stack of papers. A packed schedule. He doesn’t expect anybody else to be there. 

The intruder is organizing Sokka’s file folders. Upon seeing Sokka he whips around, turns red immediately. And drops everything he’s holding. So much for the file folders getting organized. 

Intruder guy gives him an awkward little wave, “Hello, Zuko here.” 

“Zuko.” 

“I’m your new assistant. Suki hired me.” 

_Oh._ Sokka’s mind clicks the pieces into place. New assistant. New assistant me. This man. With the inky black hair, soft crooked smile and the warmest brown eyes one ever did see. _Oh my god._

Sokka’s eyes are drawn to the scar, but he knows better than to stare. But those eyes.The flush still coloring his cheeks. _Oh my god._

Sokka’s slightly irked seeing someone this pretty in his office, completely without warning. Awkward though the guy is. Who gave him the right? Right in front of Sokka’s salad? 

“Alright, well, first of all, I’ll decide if you stay on or not. Suki may have hired you, but you’re here on a trial basis. This is a serious operation here.” 

Zuko glances at the wall to his left, which still reads ‘Shang’s Boba’, “I can totally tell. Super serious.” 

Alright, we’ve got ourselves a sarcastic one, Sokka sighs. _Great_. 

“We’re doing our best, it’s a small operation! But we’re all professional,” Sokka says defensively, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Your shirt it’s...inside out,” Zuko points out. 

_Fuck._ Sokka looks down and checks. This is true. His shirt is in fact on. Inside out. This day just keeps getting better, and better on him. 

“Okay, do you know how to make good coffee?” 

“I used to work in a tea shop.”

“Is that a no?” 

“What do you think?” 

_Great, an assistant who’s talking back to me on day one. Perfect. Someone I can pay to not listen to me and give straight answers. Slow clap for Sokka._

“Okay, you’ll learn.”

Sokka brings a little notepad and marks down exactly how he takes his coffee. What time he needs it. He rips off the top page and hands it to Zuko. 

“That’s it, just the coffee, you don’t need me to organize your shit or anything? Like your meetings.” Zuko asks. 

“Oh I need you to do that too. It’s just that without the coffee the chance that I’ll be awake in meetings goes down to about zilch. Capeesh?” Sokka finger guns at him. 

Zuko meekly does it back, as if he’s unfamiliar with it, “Sure.” 

So Suki hired him an assistant who’s distractingly pretty and can’t make coffee. It’s not ideal. But maybe that’s for the best. Most of the things in Sokka’s life are not ideal. Zuko will fit right in. 


	2. Chapter 2

Sokka keeps doing district math in his head. To clinch the party nomination they need support in every single district. They need to sweep the southern districts of Republic city. They need a strong showing in the city center. They need every single vote they can get their hands on. And Katara is not doing nearly enough pandering. He needs her on the phone. He needs her on the phone _now._

“Zuko!” Sokka yells, before he realizes the other man is standing in front of him. 

“Hey,” Zuko says sheepishly. 

“Hey, sorry, I didn’t know you were--” 

“Do you need something?” Zuko asks. 

“Get Katara on the phone? She needs to come down here. We need a new plan, we need--” Sokka reaches into the ether for some words, “We need to start thinking or we’re dead. So completely dead.” 

“Katara on line two,” Zuko says. 

_That was fast._

“Katara, I need you back at headquarters,” Sokka explains, trying to sound calm. Failing miserably. 

“I have two more events, then I’m meeting with some donors in the eastern fishing district.” 

“We need a new strategy, I’m not seeing the numbers move in your direction and your novelty and underdog-ness is only going to get us so far.” 

“I’ll be there tonight, talk about our message with Suki in the meantime,” Katara says, he can hear commotion in the background, people shouting her name. “Bye Sokka. I have to go now.”

“Sokka,” Zuko says softly, cautiously. 

“Yeah?” 

“New poll numbers you asked for, should I just--” 

“Read them out loud,” Sokka sighs. “Just rip my heart out.” 

“We’re polling within the margin of error,” Zuko explains. He looks worried. He doesn’t have to be though, Sokka isn’t really the shoot-the-messenger type. 

“The margin of error? Of who?” Sokka asks, thinking. There are two others running for the Lotus party nomination this year. Pakku, the misogynistic party elder. He’s the frontrunner. Then there’s Jet, the maverick who entered the race to ‘shake things up’ and is the bane of Sokka’s existence. If they’re polling within the margin of error of Pakku, that’s good. If they’re polling within the margin of error of Jet, who has no name brand recognition at all, that’s bad. 

“Within the margin of error of having any votes at all,” Zuko says, and he looks, so, so apologetic. 

Well if that isn’t a punch in the gut. 

* * *

“I don’t know what you were expecting,” Suki says, when he comes into her office in a frenzy. 

“Ten weeks out, I was expecting we would have made some dent, _somewhere_ , somehow? Am I crazy?” 

“People don’t usually come out to the rallies unless we hold them in her district. Even the ones that do are probably coming because she’s a novelty. We need to show them that she’s the real deal, broaden her appeal while we’re at it,” Suki puts her feet up on the desk. “Say the word, I’ll draft some statements on foreign policy. I’ll set-up a meeting with the local business lobby.”

“You’re right,” Sokka paces about the room. “Make the calls. Send some to me. Let’s see if we can get at least one endorsement by the end of the day.” 

“How’s Zuko working out?” Suki asks. 

“It’s only been two days,” Sokka points out. “Where’d you find him?” 

“He came to us.” 

“Not that I’m not totally and completely in love with the notion of Katara for President. But...he came to us? He wasn’t lost or anything?” 

“I mean, he did look a little lost. But he wants to work for her. He was really moved at that last campaign rally.” 

“You don’t think he looks a little familiar?” Sokka asks. Not that he’s been doing a lot of thinking about Zuko’s face. Or his inky dark hair. Or the fact that he blows on Sokka’s coffee before handing it to him to make sure it isn’t too hot. He totally has not been doing _any_ of that. But Zuko looks familiar, in a weird sort of way. 

“No, I didn’t think so,” Suki answers. 

“He’s a good assistant, I think,” Sokka bows in mock adoration, “Thank you your graciousness for sending him my way, in your infinite wisdom--” 

“Don’t you have a campaign to run?” 

Sokka sticks his tongue out at her as he leaves, in a way that is totally unprofessional, and totally _them._ “Make those calls!” 

* * *

Sokka stays up until 2 am. He’s almost at the point where he’s going to fall asleep at his desk. He finds himself watching his assistant instead. Zuko’s writing something, furiously making notes. The rustle of the papers sounds so soft. There’s a candle on his desk. The golden light of it splashes just right on his face. In his sleep deprived state all Sokka can do is watch the light move across Zuko’s features until-- 

“You should go home.” 

“ _You_ should,” Sokka says groggily, “Don’t pay you overtime.” 

“Sleep, I’m serious,” Zuko replies, he sounds more commanding than he has any right to be. 

“You do remember I’m your boss, right?” Sokka asks. “You can’t order me around.” 

No response. Zuko just keeps writing, single-minded as ever. 

“What are you writing anyway?” 

“You spend a lot of time just getting from one place to another, I was trying to see if I could shuffle some meetings around so you weren’t going back-and-forth so much.” 

“That’s nice,” Sokka notes, resting his head on the desk. “Never had time for stuff like that.” 

Zuko blows out the candle, and stands up to leave. He gives Sokka a poke in the shoulder, which jabs him awake. 

“Hey!” 

“Go home, Sokka, all of this will be here in the morning.” 

"Will you?" Sokka asks. He has no idea why he does. It just feels like the thing to do. 

"Of course." 

* * *

Sokka’s out on the trail all week. Or so it feels like. Zuko follows him like a shadow. There’s barely any press covering them, especially when they’re doing campaign stops separately from the candidate, but Sokka hollers enough to get a decent amount of attention. Zuko is always a step behind him. 

They take a moment’s pause every now and again. Zuko’s ready with coffee, which he seems to be able to keep warm in his hands. No matter what the temperature is outside. It’s _lovely._

“So how does this work?” Zuko asks. 

“How does what work?” 

“You, going around, talking for twelve hours a day. The same stump speech, again, and again. How does this help us get votes?” 

“A problem we have in most of the districts that aren’t our home district, is name recognition. I’m not just the campaign manager, I’m the candidate’s _brother._ I tell them a little about who she is. What she’s about. Personal touch. Shake some hands. Grip and grin.” 

“Grip and grin?” Zuko looks even more confused. 

“You shake their hand, and you smile, so they remember you.” 

“And that works?” 

“Allegedly. My face hurts from smiling. I don’t know how Katara does it all the time,” Sokka admits.

“Other candidates have print ads in the newspaper.” 

“...We can’t afford that. I sold all my furniture to just get the downpayment on the office space.” 

Zuko stares at him a minute, slightly incredulous. “That’s rough, buddy--I mean, boss.” 

“It’s okay,” Sokka snorts, “You can chill with the formalities.” 

“How’s your, uh, coffee?” 

“It’s good. Probably the only reason I’m awake right now actually.” 

Zuko pulls a small wad of paper from his bag and unfolds it. “We’re late for the next stop. Come on.” 

* * *

It’s amazing, Sokka thinks, how they can campaign door-to-door, practically person-to-person, and still not make a significant dent in the polls. They’re at 11% now. A measly 11%. Pakku is at 54%. Jet is at 12%. He’s not sure which pisses him off more. 

“Zuko, get Suki on the phone,” Sokka says. 

“She’s across the hall.” 

“ _Zuko_.” 

Zuko lets out a sigh. The audacity, honestly. “Suki on line two.” 

“Hey Sukes,” Sokka says into the receiver. 

“You couldn’t have walked across the hall?” 

“It was urgent. I think we need to go negative.” 

“Uh-uh. You brought it up in the last staff meeting and Katara was against it. We’re running a clean campaign.” 

“We’re _losing_ a clean campaign.” 

“Sokka.” 

“We won’t say anything that bad, just point out Pakku’s been in office for what, nearly a century now, and hasn’t gotten anything done? He’s a panderer, and a flip-flopper…” 

“No means no, Sokka.” 

“Fine. What do you suggest?” 

“We don’t have to go negative,” Suki says, “But we could make an alliance with someone who is willing to go negative.” 

“No.” 

“Jet’s with us on most of the issues, anyway, whatever you think about him personally. Make an alliance with him. Push Pakku out of the way. Then we can run against him one-to-one.” 

“Absolutely not.” 

“I’m suggesting it to Katara,” Suki says, a little apologetically. 

Sokka hears the dial tone. The betrayal. The gall of this woman. A temporary alliance with Jet? That’s crazy talk. That’s--

“What did she say?” Zuko asks. 

“Don’t worry about it, she’s lost her mind, and Katara’ll never agree to it.” 

* * *

Katara agrees to it. 

Sokka’s quietly fuming all day. As a mark of his personal dissent to this decision, he spends the day at headquarters. Suki can take point during the meeting with Jet’s people and report back. Nothing good can come of this, he’s sure of it. They’ll find a way to double-cross his little sister. This temporary alliance is just a method for them to find some dirt on Katara and use it later. Plus, what if it doesn’t work? Pakku’s going to be running for this nomination until he dies...practically...it’s like he runs on entitlement and spite. 

“This is the worst!” Sokka exclaims, throwing all his papers into the air. 

“I just organized those,” Zuko grimaces. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Sokka says, and gets down on his knees to pick up the mess he just made. Zuko joins him. 

“What do you have against Jet?” 

“You like him?” Sokka raises an eyebrow. 

“No,” Zuko replies, a little too forcefully. Okay, so there’s something there. 

“I hate him on principle. His positions are fine, but he’s willing to--let’s just say he goes too far on a few things. And personally, he seems like a jerk.” 

“I used to think all politicians were jerks before I met your sister.” 

At this point, Sokka thinks Zuko definitely has a thing for his sister. He says stuff like that every so often. How he really believes in Katara. He always stands up when she enters a room. He can barely talk to her. He’s awkward around her in a way he never is when it’s just him and Sokka. It’s baffling. It has to be a crush. Which is not good. 

“About that,” Sokka broaches the subject carefully, “We really love having you onboard, and I personally admire your--I don’t know how to say this.” 

“Say what?” 

“Nevermind, um, you know about Aang?” 

“Katara’s boyfriend, yeah, I know about him, you have me call him all the time. He calls you all the time.” 

Their hands brush as they reach for the same sheet of paper at the same time. Their knees bump and Sokka’s just close enough to make this awkward. Make his heart skip a beat. 

“Okay, great, good. Just wanted to make sure you knew.” 

Zuko just stares at him again with that bemused expression he often has. Just short of dazed and a little bit annoyed. It’s cute. Sokka thinks it’s cute and all of a sudden his hands feel clammy and he wants to be anywhere except here on the floor next to him. 

“We’re good then,” Sokka gathers up his stack of papers and receives the stack Zuko has collected. “Good teamwork.” 

“Are you okay?” 

“Sting of betrayal takes time to heal, but I’ll be fine.” 

Zuko rolls his eyes. Sokka can’t help but to laugh.That’s nice. Very nice. The universe thought Sokka’s life wasn’t hard enough already, trying to get a one-term representative polling at 11% to cinch the Lotus party nomination for president. Why not throw in an unrequited crush just for funsies? _Great._ Just peachy. 

* * *

Zuko hasn’t dated anyone in a while. Years, really. But even when he was dating Mai, living with her half the time. Staying more nights at her place than he did at his. It was never like this. 

He isn’t dating Sokka, but he’s with him _all the time._ They start work together at the crack of dawn. Sokka isn’t a morning person, so he needs a lot of coffee, cajoling, and sometimes sweets. Zuko isn’t typically a night owl, so it’s difficult to stay with him putting stuff down while Sokka paces frantically from place to place. 

Zuko knows more things about Sokka than he ever knew about Mai. All his preferences in food, beverages, his exact schedule. The frequency with which he takes breaks. Even bathroom breaks. When he needs to be told to take a nap. When he needs to be told if he looks at poll numbers any longer he’ll go crazy. Zuko knows all of it. 

It wasn’t easy at first. It’s obvious that Sokka isn’t used to taking help and Zuko isn’t used to giving it to anyone but Uncle. But they fall into a pattern more easily than either of them could have expected. Zuko’s content to answer Sokka’s phone and take down his appointments. Manage his schedule so that nothing goes unnoticed. Pre-read through drafts and memos. Follow him around with coffee at the ready, warming it from stop to stop with his own hands. He does all of it, plus any other ridiculous task that Sokka can think of on short notice. He does it with more care than might be necessary. Sokka deserves it. 

Sokka’s a good boss. His dedication to the cause is astounding. He spends every minute either thinking strategy or cracking jokes and Zuko can get behind that. He likes people who work hard to get what they have. He likes people who don’t take anything for granted. Nothing in life can be taken for granted. Sokka works harder than anyone Zuko has ever known. 

The praise doesn’t hurt either. It’s Zuko’s job to do all this stuff. So it isn’t necessary. But Sokka says ‘did good today’ every night as he leaves. The occasional absentminded ‘thank you’ and a pat on the back. Sokka loops him into meetings too, making him feel like one of the team. With Suki, Toph, and sometimes Katara herself. 

Zuko likes Katara. He finds her incredibly inspiring. It’s just that she scares the crap out of him. The screaming matches she has at Sokka about substance versus strategy are intimidating. The steel of her eyes and the _look_ she sometimes has when interrupted doesn’t help either. But he loves that. This is exactly who can defeat his father. This is the only person who can. He’s sure of it. 

He sees a bit of the cut-throat instinct in Sokka too. Just less. Sokka’s softer, even though he’s loud, and hollers a lot and is a chaotic force of nature. That’s just on the surface. The real Sokka’s the one that comes out after a full day campaigning. When he requests things sleepily and makes grabby hands at Zuko to indicate that he needs coffee. Sokka likes to have polling numbers read out to him late at night. He admits to Zuko that he prefers to hear them in Zuko’s voice. 

One night he says more than once that he likes the way that it sounds. Zuko turns red and stays that way, glad that Sokka’s facing the other way. Sokka doesn’t usually (probably?) remember such pronouncements in the morning. 

It’s not Zuko’s fault that Sokka’s easy on the eyes. Anyone would have this reaction to a person like that. Zuko does _not_ have anything in the realm of feelings, other than friendship, wholesome comradery, for his boss. Because that would be inappropriate. 

There’s nothing then, that can explain why when Suki asks Zuko to sort paperwork for her Sokka’s always there to swoop in and say “hands off, he’s mine.” Why a statement like that could possibly feel good, especially when Sokka puts his hands on his shoulders and walks him back to their corner of the office, is a mystery. 

* * *

“I’m sorry about this,” Sokka says, rubbing his eyes. 

It’s another late night. Zuko’s used to it by now. The bags under Sokka’s eyes are like old friends. He doesn’t remember the last time he got more than five hours himself. 

“S’not your fault,” Zuko reminds him. “I know you think all of this is on you. It’s not.” 

“It is though. It is on me.” 

“It’s not!” Zuko snaps. 

Sokka looks shocked, and just stares back. Blinking. 

“Win or lose, you did your best to give her a fair shot. If you don’t know that, you’re not as smart as I thought you were.” 

The statement hangs in the air and Zuko wonders if maybe he shouldn’t have said it. After countless nights of this though, it’s something Sokka needs to hear. 

“Well, that aside, there has to be someplace you’d rather be.” 

Zuko shakes his head. It’s the truth. There isn’t anywhere he’d rather be and he knows it. Maybe that’s sad but he doesn’t care. Sokka needs him here and this is exactly where he wants to be. Ever since he was younger he’s been a stickler about loyalty. Hasn’t always turned out well. It’s just who he is. 

“Pass me the memo on water quality?” 

“Sure thing.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: *has been going crazy because winter holiday from work and binge-watched the west wing*  
> the boyfriend: uhhh why dont you write some fanfiction and maybe you'll feel better 
> 
> hence...this update  
> to anyone who commented on the last update and read this one, from the bottom of my heart i hope you liked this  
> real politics suck and this is my refuge

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed this exercise in atla x the west wing brainrot <333  
> leave me a line if you liked this!


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